Page 60 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
The sound of boots echoed through vaulted corridors, a steady rhythm against polished stone. My eyes remained trained on the marble floor, only lifting as we approached an ornate doorway. Beyond it stretched an elaborate throne room, golden light filtering through stained glass windows high above.
The body I inhabited moved with the familiarity of someone who had walked these halls a thousand times before, each step confident. My spine stayed straight as I took position near the throne, turning to face the gathering crowd. Other guards stood at attention around the perimeter, their faces as immobile as the stone walls surrounding us.
I watched as the room bowed in perfect unison, feeling a presence fill the space behind me. The eyes would not turn to look, no matter how I willed them.
"As some of you know, there is a war brewing on our Western Border." A strong female voice echoed through the chamber, each word cutting through the silence like a blade. "The countless casualties have been devastating to the Isle."
Something about that voice tugged at my memory, but I couldn't quite place it .
"But now we find there is a traitor in our midst. Working against our plans for peace. Harboring a hatred for the very ones who offered them sanctuary." She paused, letting fear ripple through the crowd before continuing.
"Her name is Fia Riftborne."
What?
Murmurs erupted, growing louder with each passing second.
"She has joined the enemy, escaping through a tear between worlds, into the realm of monsters, seeking their asylum before we even knew what traps she had laid in her wake."
The voice grew colder with each word. "She has already committed her first act of treason, and one so dark that it's difficult for me to even put into words. One meant to wound us deeply. To annihilate our spirit."
"Traitor!" Someone shouted from the crowd, sparking a wave of angry voices.
"Be vigilant, my friends," the voice purred, "because she has not acted alone."
There was the sound of shuffling, metal scraping against stone. Finally, the eyes tracked the movement, and confusion flooded through me at what they found. Ma stood between two men in emerald uniforms, their gloved hands locked around her arms as they dragged her forward. Her silver-streaked hair had fallen loose from its knot, and hibiscus stains still dotted her hands as they forced her to her knees below the throne.
I wanted to run, to scream, to move—to do anything to stop what was about to happen. But I remained frozen, trapped in this body that wouldn't respond to my desperate commands.
"Maladea Thiston. State your crimes against the Crown." The voice dripped with malice, almost gleeful in its accusation.
Ma's face twisted into a scowl as she looked up, then spat in the direction of the throne. The glob of saliva landed inches from the pristine marble steps.
The room gasped. Steel hissed against leather as swords cleared their sheaths .
"If the traitor won't accept or deny her charges, then I'm afraid she leaves me no choice." A pause hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. "Maladea Thiston. You are hereby charged with the murder of King Sydian."
Shock rippled through the crowd like a wave before the room went deathly quiet. My heart thundered so hard I thought it might break free of this borrowed ribcage.
"You were tasked with providing the Sídhe Guard with tonics meant to ease their fight against our enemy. We trusted you with our lives, our people, and the future of this realm. And yet, you were pulled into the darkness by the young girl who used to work for you."
Ma's jaw clenched, but she remained silent, defiant.
"You slipped a bottle of poisoned wine into our most recent shipment, one addressed to the King himself."
Gasps tore through the crowd, voices crying out in horror and rage. But Ma just glared toward the voice, unmoving, her shoulders straight despite the guards' grip.
"For such an offense, I have no choice other than to sentence you to death."
My blood ran cold, veins turning to ice.
No. No. No.
Cheers erupted throughout the room, bouncing off marble and glass until they became a deafening roar.
Rage threatened to burn me alive.
"Those who stand before the throne, turn to face me." The voice cut through the chaos. "Who will volunteer to carry out the deed?"
Slowly, each guard, including the one whose body I inhabited, turned toward the throne. As my borrowed eyes lifted, time seemed to still.
The woman perched on the golden throne wore Queen Ophelia's crown, draped in the familiar emerald silks of Sídhe royalty. Her blonde tresses cascaded down her shoulders exactly as I remembered from the palace halls.
But those eyes .
Haunting. Onyx. Eyes.
No.
Staring down at me, was the face of Vilda Valtyr, as young and vibrant as she'd appeared in my last dream.
I thought back to the girl that was never allowed to attend balls, who was always sinking into the shadows of her Duskbound sister.
And then I thought of how I'd never learned what her tether was.
The realization hit me like a blow to the chest. My mind refused to accept what was right in front of me, even as the pieces crashed together with devastating clarity.
Oh Esprithe.
Vilda Valtyr wasn't dead. She was the siphon.
The shock of it rippled through me, and even in this borrowed body, I felt my control slipping. Laryk advanced forward from the line of guards. Every step he took tore silent screams from my throat.
No.
The Queen extended an emerald encrusted sword towards him, and nausea flooded me.
The voices around me became deafened, muffled, as if I were sinking underwater. Through the haze, I heard someone calling my name, but it seemed to come from another world entirely.
The body I inhabited remained motionless as Laryk disappeared from view.
No! I begged the mouth to scream, begged the body to move, to stop whatever was happening behind me. But it wouldn't move. It wouldn't fucking move.
When Laryk returned seconds later, the pristine blade had been replaced with crimson, and something inside me shattered completely.
My eyes flew open to wooden beams inches from my face. Darkness erupted around me like a tempest, furniture splintering as my shadows tore through the cabin. Glass shattered, wood cracked, and somewhere beneath the chaos, I heard Aether calling my name .
I fell onto the bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body drenched in sweat. Aether's hands found my face instantly, his touch anchoring me as tremors wracked through me.
"What happened?" His golden eyes searched mine, filled with concern.
I blinked, fighting back the sob threatening to tear from my throat. The image of Laryk's bloodied sword burned into my mind.
"War," I managed through hoarse lungs.
"We go to war."